Second Chances: Nervous
by servantofclio
Summary: Being Garrus Vakarian's daughter isn't easy. About to turn 15 and start her mandatory service, Lexa Vakarian isn't sure what to expect. A sequel to my story Second Chances.


This is a small sequel to my story **Second Chances**, set about five years later (in 2205). For readers unfamiliar with that story: Garrus and Shepard broke up during ME3, only to reunite years later as widowed single parents; David is Shepard's son (with Kaidan Alenko), and Lexa is Garrus' daughter from his marriage to a turian woman.

For Second Chances readers: Lexa is about to turn fifteen and start her mandatory service, and she's nervous.

I originally posted this on my tumblr in June as a Father's Day story.

* * *

David Alenko found his stepsister Lexa hunched up at the overlook at their favorite park. That was where he'd expected to find her after her door-slamming exit, although he'd been doing homework and missed what the fight was about. She had her knees drawn up, her arms circled loosely around them, staring out over the paths below. "Man, you're in a mood," he said lightly, settling down beside her. "Don't worry, you'll be out of the house in a month—"

She shuddered and turned her face away. "Yeah, that'll be great."

It took no effort at all to pick up on the sarcasm in her tone. "Come on, if the parents are getting you down, at least you won't have to deal, you'll be done with school, you'll be out actually doing something—"

"Don't," she said. "Don't be _jealous_, David. I know _you_ want to be out of school, but not everyone does."

He stopped short and thought back over how her temper had been getting shorter and shorter the last few months. "Ohhh. So that's it."

"Congratulations. You figured me out. Now you can go home and tell your mom I'm fine."

He could do that, sure. Once Lexa had left, Mom had stood in the kitchen looking bewildered, and kind of exasperated. She'd shaken her head and taken herself back to her office; David had only hesitated for a moment before he went out the door after Lexa. "She doesn't even know I'm here. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shrugged. "What's to talk about? I have to go, and I'm scared."

David blinked, startled. "What about? You're top of our class in science and engineering. You're a great shot. Your hand-to-hand isn't so great, maybe, but you're pretty fit, and you gotta have something to work on, right? That's what Uncle James says."

Lexa turned her face back toward him. "I don't know how much 'top of our class' even _means_. I haven't lived on Palaven since I was nine."

"We went for a visit last year."

"It's not the same. The gravity's a little different, and there's weather, and—I don't know how I'll measure up against other turian kids."

"Come on, Lexa, it won't be that bad. You're doing fine with the other turians at school."

"Our school is small. And come on, yourself. Everyone's gonna know who my dad is."

David frowned. "There have to be other people with your last name and marks around."

"It's not just that. He knows half of the officer corps personally. He's been high-tier ever since the war. And you know what he's like." Her voice dropped into a passable parody of her father's storytelling drawl. "'Did I ever tell you about the time I killed three mercs with one bullet? Those were the days.'"

David snickered. Lexa flicked a mandible at him. "The worst of it is, as far as I can tell, he _actually did do all that shit_. What do you think the instructors are going to expect from _me_?"

"Well, he hadn't done any of that when he was fifteen."

"He got tapped for Spectre training when he was twenty, or something, and the only reason he didn't go was because of grandfather."

"Wow. Really? I didn't know that one."

Lexa lunged, shoving an elbow into his ribs. "There you go. _Both_ of your parents were Spectres, and you're still impressed. I'm just... I'm doomed. Everyone's going to be watching me. 'Oh yeah, did you hear about that trainee? That's Garrus Vakarian's daughter. Shame she's crap at everything.'"

"You're not going to be crap at everything."

She ignored him. "'Thought she'd be a better shot, you know, considering. Must be disappointing for him.'"

"Hey." He poked her back, going for the soft spot on her side. She squirmed away. "He's not going to think anything like that. And you'll be fine. Isn't the whole point to figure out what you're good at and put you in the right spot? Meritocracy and all that?"

Lexa sighed. "Yeah, it is. They're still going to be watching me, though."

She might be right, he had to admit; he only knew so much about the inner workings of the turian military. He was quiet for a little while, watching her. Lexa had turned her attention back to the view. Eventually David said, "You really should talk to your dad."

She sighed again. "I know."

* * *

By the time they got home, Lexa was feeling thoroughly ashamed of her outburst. David went back to his project, and she went to make her apologies to Renee. She managed to do it without stammering or scuffing her toes on the floor, and she held eye contact while she did. Like a grown-up.

She didn't feel very much like a grown-up.

"It's all right, Lexa," Renee said. She was smiling, though there was a pucker between her eyebrows that said she was still worried or unhappy. "We're good." She extended her arms slightly, offering a hug, and Lexa accepted it gratefully. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the notion that this woman was _the_ Commander Shepard with the knowledge that she gave absolutely the best hugs, exactly the right amount of strong and soft.

It was a shock, too, as she pulled away, to realize that she was a few centimeters taller than Renee. She wondered when that had happened as she fought the urge to duck.

"Everything all right with you?" Renee asked gently.

"Yeah... I just... I'm sorry I've been..." Lexa let out a breath. "Nerves."

Renee nodded. "Listen, think about whether there's anything special you want to do before you go. We should do something fun. Something you like." She smiled again. "We're going to miss you, you know."

Lexa swallowed down the lump in her throat. "I... yeah, I'll think about it. I'm going to miss you, too. Is Dad home yet?"

"Yeah, he's in the workshop."

She hesitated before knocking on the door. It was silly, really; the workshop wasn't a private space, and they all used it from time to time. But she did knock, and waited until she heard a muffled "come in" from the other side before triggering the door.

Dad was leaning over the workbench, rifle parts spread everywhere in front of him. He spared a glance over his shoulder. "Hey, Lex. What do you need?"

She took a deep breath. "Can we talk?"

He put down the scope he was holding immediately and turned around. "Sure. What about?"

She'd gotten herself this far, but now Lexa fidgeted, grasping for better words than she'd been able to find for David. Words that wouldn't make her look like a coward and a child. And Dad was just standing there, looking at her with that kind of calm regard that said he could literally stand there for hours waiting for her to pick her moment to speak. She wasn't sure whether it was comforting or terrifying. "I'm really... nervous."

He cocked his head to the side. "About anything in particular?"

He was really going to make her say it, wasn't he? Yes, of course he was. "About basic. About going back to Palaven. About... everything, I guess." She sank onto the bench against the side wall, slouching as much as she could manage. Humans always seemed so much better at slouching.

"That's a pretty wide spectrum of things to be nervous about," he said, half laughing.

Oh, if she stretched her legs out in front of her, she could slouch _more_. She did, and let her back slide down the wall, sighing, "_Dad_."

"Sorry." He took the seat next to her. "What's bothering you about basic?"

"I don't know if I'll be good enough," she admitted, hating the way her voice came out sounding reedy and pathetic.

"Good enough for what? The point is to train you, Lex. You and all the others. Improve what skills you have, see where you might fit, place you with the right opportunities. Try to think of it as... a sorting process. Is there something particular you want to be doing?"

"No. I don't know. I know how it's supposed to work, but..." She trailed off.

After a minute, Dad prompted, "But?"

"Everyone's going to know who I am. Who _you_ are. The instructors, I mean."

He was quiet for a moment. "They shouldn't treat anyone differently, if that's what you're worried about."

"Maybe they're not supposed to, but... they'll think things, won't they? Expect things?"

He chuckled, once, under his breath. Lexa scowled. "It's not funny."

Dad shook his head. "Did I ever tell you about my first year in C-Sec?"

"Dad, I'm not—"

"I promise it's relevant."

Lexa sighed, and settled herself in a more comfortable position. "Fine. Go ahead."

He grinned back. "Thanks for indulging your old man. Okay. When I started at C-Sec, I was still young. I'd done a couple of rotations in different parts of the fleet, but I was still very much in the training period—which lasts years, frankly, depending on your specialization. Your mom, for example, had four or five years of medical training—"

"Dad."

"Right. Now, your grandfather was very highly placed in C-Sec at that time. He was close friends with the Executor. He handled a lot of very sensitive investigations. He dealt with the press so much that most of the people on the Citadel knew his face. Crooks, diplomats, business executives, whoever. He got everything done, and got it all done right, and had one of the best arrest records in the entire department. Everybody respected him, and probably half the C-Sec staff were afraid of him."

It was a little hard to reconcile that impression with the grandfather who was maybe a little stiff, but unfailingly kind to her and her cousins.

Dad laughed again. "And then I came along. I can't remember any more how long I was 'the other Vakarian.' Or 'little Vakarian.' That was fun. Everyone was watching me that whole first year, and a lot of them weren't shy about admitting it. Every time I made a stupid mistake with forms or procedures, I heard about it right away. Not from your grandfather, but from somebody up the chain."

Lexa waited for the conclusion, for the bit where he overcame the odds or proved the doubters wrong, but nothing happened. "So... what did you do?"

Dad shrugged. "I did my job. I got better at it over time. Always hated the paperwork, though. Eventually people stopped comparing me to my father to my face. I got promoted a couple of times. Your grandfather retired. And after that I left C-Sec. The point is, Lex, I do know what this is like. You're probably right, you know. People will have expectations about you. Maybe they'll think you should be a good shot—they'll be right about that, you know. They'll probably expect that you're good at working with other species." He snorted. "Some of them might also remember that I used to be young and bad at taking orders. It won't just be about me, either. Some of them might even remember that your mother once saved their lives. You can't control any of those assumptions, Lex. I'm sorry."

He sounded genuinely regretful, which made her blink, startled. "So what do I do?"

Dad's arm slid around her shoulders. "You do what _you're_ good at. Work hard at whatever comes before you. Those first impressions won't last. Whatever they think about you after a month, or two, or six... that will be because you earned it."

Lexa gulped. "What if I'm not good at anything?"

Dad laughed, longer this time. "Believe me, I'm not worried about that."

She squirmed. "But Dad—"

"If I had any concerns about you being able to handle the basics, you'd already know about it." He sounded absolutely firm and confident. In spite of herself, Lexa took some comfort from that.

"Okay."

"You said you didn't have any particular path in mind. That's fine. Take the time to explore. Don't feel any obligation to do what I do. You could be a pilot or a teacher or an engineer or a medic—" He stopped suddenly.

Lexa leaned against his shoulder and sneaked her own arm around his broad back. "I don't know if I can handle the... the sight of blood." She didn't have dreams about the accident often any more, but when she did, the sight and smell of blood was what dominated them.

He squeezed, gently. "Maybe not medicine, then. Lexa, your mom would have been really proud of you."

Her memories of her mother were a little blurred, more than she would have liked. She remembered laughter and brisk competence and a fond expression, all the pictures they took that time they went to the mountains, and the sound of her footsteps in the old house in Cipritine. She sighed, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Feeling any better?" Dad asked.

She swallowed. "Yeah. I... I really don't want to let you down, Dad."

He twisted to lean his mandible against her cheek. "You could never, Lex. Whatever you do."

She sighed and let herself relax. For a while, at least, she could believe it would be all right.


End file.
